|Winter Before the Epilogue version two
Author: Perilous Escapist PM
A rewrite, so to speak, of something I wrote months ago...interpret as you will...Rated: Fiction K - English - Words: 424 - Reviews: 3 - Published: 10-19-05 - id: 2030965
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Winter Before The Epilogue
Nomadic turn of the autumn,
the leaves that drift across the dying grass, so
stained with the trees' blood;
crushed beneath steps taken astray
amid restless wander through truth and false
vacant horizon athwart the blue,
hazed reflections: The drowning sun
swept through the clouds;
restive moon in such a tentative stir
and you and I…
a promise downheld, but you trusted too soon,
and a twilight lies upon yesterday
tarnished pearl, mere shadow to light,
silver stars awaken on the canvas.
Night attained the sense of bliss,
but wished amiss on the shooting star
trail the scattered leaves in their descent
as forget-me-knots wilt with vow...
but forget me - knots that don't unravel,
edgeless, uncornered cycles to travel;
keeping hold as all slips from their arms…
endless nights, so ever-fleeting;
autumn nightlies only to dream of summer,
as the only fine print in her dreams is to rouse
once she finds her rosy sunshine
and you and I…
there was no prologue; what if I had known
of morning farewells, stumbling on your words
and the sole legacy of dreams, a chain to life?
too swiftly did sunset pursue dawn,
her light faint as daybreak would descend.
Night attained that sense of bliss
but wished amiss on that shooting star
arduous to break silence with hello -
how to bridge a line, so fine and defined?
Revealing their darkness and their light...
yet, the sun obscures secrets in illume
as the moon veils regrets in the dusk
page one of once reveals no end,
for where in the prologue do snowflakes fall?
Sorrow glimmers through shaded seas,
and the last word is nowhere in sight
because you and I…
I find again a summer rainstorm, but in October -
my balance, my solace, my instability
tarnished pearl, dim in his light,
with rosed eyes, awaiting tomorrow.
Night attained some sense of bliss
when she wished amiss on a shooting star
these winds swirl and call me
as I seek to close them in my hands,
and I'd go, but I'd rather dream...
because the only fine print in dreams is to awaken -
to always awaken…
A/N - This is something I wrote last March...I came across it very recently and found that while I may have liked it before, I now find it too long, and that the descriptions seem to weigh it down. As a result, this is version two. Let me know what you think of this in comparison to the original...